Certain Dark Things(45)

She leaned forward with the grace of an uncoiling snake.

“Fuck off, townie,” she said, shoving him away and motioning to her friends.

Justiniano hurried to his side.

“That whore,” Nick said, emitting half a laugh. “Did you see that? Who does she think she is?”

“Forget about it,” Justiniano told him.

Only he hadn’t forgotten about it. No, no, no. And when his dad had told him Atl Iztac was on the run Nick had been delighted and eager to assist with her capture. Payback was a bitch.

He tossed the tequila away, fed up with it, and opened the vodka instead.

After gulping nearly half that bottle he remembered that they were under instructions from his father to kill the girl. He frowned. That wouldn’t do. He’d taken a real liking to this idea of keeping her for a while. Nick set aside the vodka, sat up, and looked around the bed, pulling the dirty sheets and the pillows. An empty soda can rolled onto the floor. He found the phone.

It only rang once before his father answered.

“Yes?”

“Father, it’s me.”

“What is it?” The voice was flat, stony.

“Nothing much. Rodrigo is being an idiot and we lost Justiniano,” Nick said, grabbing the soda can and spinning it in his hands. He lay back on the bed.

“Where are you?”

“Mexico City.”

His father’s voice was the same, a neutral tone, though Nick could feel the tension beneath it, the suppressed anger.

“Why?”

“You should ask Rodrigo,” Nick said. “Atl got away and we’re trying to find her.”

His father was quiet. Nick stretched an arm behind his back, scratching his nape. “I wasn’t calling you about that, though. I want you to tell Rodrigo that we should capture her, not kill her.”

“Why?”

“It would be more fun,” Nick said, crumpling the soda can and tossing it against the wall.

“This is not about fun.”

It is for me, Nick thought. He rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t think she should die quickly. It’s too simple. We should make a real good example of her,” he replied.

“I’ll think about it.”

He hung up with that. Nick frowned, staring at the receiver. He wished he’d gotten something more solid than I’ll think about it. He really did want the damn girl.

Nick made an incision in the blood pack he’d been avoiding and began drinking. He did his best to pretend he was drinking her blood, going as far as to close his eyes and sketch a clear mental picture of Atl. The darkness of her hair, blue black it was. The face that was so proud, with an avian quality, more the raven than the swan. That face, reduced to a ruin under the onslaught of a blade.

He threw his head back and ripped the blood pack apart, letting the contents rain upon his body.





CHAPTER

17

In the morning, Domingo considered waking Atl up, but then he remembered it was daylight and maybe that wasn’t a great idea. Instead, he hung out around the apartment, listening to music, until his belly grumbled. In the kitchen he found two cans of beans but no can opener. There was also a big bag of dog food in a corner and a bowl next to it that served as the dog’s feeding dish. He refilled the dog’s dish, then grabbed Atl’s keys and decided to have a meal outside. He discovered a tortería just a few blocks from the apartment. He ordered a cheese and ham torta and while he ate it, he started thinking about money, ’cause he hadn’t gone to work in several days and he didn’t have much cash left. He didn’t want to be a bum, having Atl pay for everything, but he also couldn’t go picking plastic bottles off the streets if she needed him around.

It was nice being needed; it made you feel special.

Domingo wrapped half the torta in a napkin and put it in one of his large jacket pockets for later. He did not waste food. He never knew when his next meal was coming.

He went to hang out in front of a newsstand, looking over the newspaper headlines and staring at the magazines. The guy selling newspapers shooed him away after a while, telling him he couldn’t be reading everything if he wasn’t going to pay, so Domingo walked a few more blocks and stood in front of a different newsstand.

When he got back to the building, it was late and the whole place was swarming with activity. The front door was open and there were lots of people in green-and-blue sanitation suits at the entrance.

“You know what’s up?” he asked an old lady who was standing outside.

“Sanitation sweep, what do you think?” the woman grumbled. “They’re looking for Cronengs, as usual.”

Domingo panicked, thinking of Atl. He managed to walk up the stairs without running, simply staring down at the ground and praying none of the sanitation officers stopped him. They didn’t, and he managed to fit the key in the lock and open the door, immediately closing it behind him.

“Atl!” he yelled, and rushed to the bedroom.

He was relieved to see Cualli was still sitting in front of the closet. The dog stared at him when he approached, but didn’t growl, and Domingo knocked on the closet door. When Atl didn’t reply, he slid the door open.

She was on the floor, in a sleeping bag, her eyes closed tight. Domingo hesitated for a second, remembering what had happened last time, and touched her hand.